


Zootopia: Cosa Nostra

by EatCheeseEveryday, J_Shute_Norway



Category: Caravan Palace (Band), Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M, Gang Violence, Murder, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-02 16:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10948746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatCheeseEveryday/pseuds/EatCheeseEveryday, https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Shute_Norway/pseuds/J_Shute_Norway
Summary: Codes of honour run strong in the Zootopian crime families, and those who break them often find such a mistake their last. Sal D'Angelo, betrayed eight years ago, has returned to Zootopia to claim his vengeance. With an old friend from the ZPD, and their newest stars emotionally crippled, he thinks he'll have an easy ride ahead. But as things often turn out... he doesn't.





	1. Unhealed Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: We own naught but the plot. Rating is subject to change.

Co-written by Eat Cheese Everyday & J Shute Norway

Sal took a deep breath, this was it. The last eight and a half years of planning had all boiled down to this. The doors of the train opened, his heartbeat was ringing in his feline ears and he moved, returning home after so long away. In an instant, he was swept up in the flow of mammals, all making their way to the exit. He didn't care for them much, never really had, so his head was low throughout. Even so, he had to lift it then and now to scan the horizon, the interruption to his routine getting more frequent as he rose up on the escalators and stepped out into the concourse proper. A quick glance here, a quick glance there, and only then did he see it. Amber eyes and dusty tan and black fur.

"Nero," he called, smiling as he saw the old cheetah look up and recognise him. They walked towards each other, paws outstretched, before he gripped the elder cheetah's one tight. They shook, no words needed as eight long years of pain seemed to fade away. Eight long years for Sal at least, given that Nero had only been going up in the years since that day. The last years for him had been anything but painful, in fact he almost looked a bit younger. It was only then that Sal spotted the card hanging from his friends other paw. He squinted, looking down at it and, as if on cue, the cheetah raised it so that he could read.

'Solver of problems'

"I believe that described you very well. Or..."

"Or what?" Sal butted in, his mood suddenly slightly rougher as he began to sense where this was going. As it turned out, his instincts were on point.

"At least it did until you left my service, and fell in with them."

Sal shrugged "Well you know how it is, gotta do what you gotta do."

Nero only shook his head sadly. "But still, we had such a good arrangement back in the old days. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. You help me shimmy up and cover up, I keep your head out of the water…"

Sal nodded "Well, until I can get a family to take me on, I'll gladly take any work you give me. In the meantime, you manage to get my old apartment back? The bastards didn't mess it up did they?"

Nero paused for a second to think, before tutting slightly before speaking. His voice had a faint trace of disappointment in it. "Sal, I would have thought you could have put those years of confinement to use. You know? Broadening your mind, trying to understand the way things work. Heck, even if I could somehow evict the family of Badgers living there now, and let us not think of the bureaucracy involved in that affair, do you really think that moving into that old place is the wisest move, given your plans for uh… how did you put it?"

Sal opened his mouth to protest, but realised that Nero was talking sense; the minute Lobo realised he was back, a sad eventuality that was unavoidable, his old apartment would be the first place he'd look. "I… you're right. I can't go back there just yet, don't want this thing to end before it even starts."

Nero nodded and silently came forward to put his arms around Sal's shoulder. He looked around a few times, before leading him off in a new direction, following a crowd of mammals into a subway entrance that Sal didn't remember being there last time. Sal just went along with it, slowly gritting his teeth as that name echoed around his head.

.

He'd wanted to avoid saying the name of that bastard, but things weren't going to plan.

.

Wasn't the first time when Lobo was involved. Sal flinched slightly, his ear flicking as the roar of motorbikes and fast wind whipping past came back.

.

The harsh squeal of a train moving over its third rail became the echo of failing brakes, followed by the pounding of his own flesh as it tumbled across the road.

.

"You Okay?"

.

"Fine, thank you," Sal muttered in response, just as he leant down to rub his right knee. This time he shuddered nose to tail, balking as he remembered the agony of it.

Smashed out, like a broken egg…

The first year of jail had been spent in the hospital wing, as they pieced his leg back together. Titanium and stitches and God knows what else. But Sal still remembered that it was flesh and blood. It could bleed. It could break. But it didn't have to have been the end. All it would have taken was for Lobo to…

.

.

.

"LOBO!"...

.

Sal's screams roared through the alleyway, battling with the ever rising scream of police sirens. Shuffling away from them on his back, a trail of blood followed him as it flowed out of his destroyed knee, clutched between his two paws as he tried to keep what was left of it in place. His ears rose as he heard the familiar rumble of a three-hundred plus HP Kawayaki motor. There was a squeal, and there he was, racing towards him. Weaving past the mangled remains of Sal's own bike, bent up around the ruins of some damn armadillo's car.

"Pull me onto the back! We can get out of this."

Even as he sped up, Sal didn't realising what was going on. It was only as the dark brown wolf passed at speed, his paw outstretched and hooked around the cat's own share of the loot, that he realised that he was being left there. The last he saw of his former partner was the sneer on his face and his mock salute, before he gunned his engine and pulled a wheelie, leaving the stray big cat left in a trail of dust….

.

"Sal…"

.

"Sal?"

.

"Ugh, what?" he finally responded, as the train in front of his slowed to halt and its doors opened.

"Eight years in the joint, I don't suppose you want to wait five minutes for the next train, do you?"

Sal rolled his eyes "Very funny." he said as he pulled his bag up from the ground and they boarded it, pushing past the other mammals as they did so.

"In any case," Nero said quietly, after a brief pause as the two took their seats, sat opposite each other. "My previous offer still stands. I just want you to know, before you commit yourself… no, both of us to this. I kept clean before, but if it were to finally unravel it would be hard to explain how the relationship between a former cop like me, and a street thug like you, can be anything other than corrupt."

"Well, I'll certainly think about it and get back to you." Sal replied as he adjusted himself in his seat, every now and then looking through his bag to make sure everything was in its proper place. "But first, I need to find Lobo. I want answers, and once I get 'em, I'm gonna make him feel every last shred of misery I felt in the can… and then some," he growled with his ears back, fangs prominently shown, even the iron-nerved ex-detective in front of him had to lean back a little bit subconsciously. A big cat himself, he knew the tics his old friend was showing. The worst thing he could do now was poke the beast, so instead he chose a different path for conversation.

"I think I have the addresses of some of your old friends," Nero said quietly, "maybe they could be helpful? Maybe not. I've seen members of a team split off in a hell of a lot less time than eight years. I mean you…" Nero paused for a few seconds, before thinking. "How much did the nighthowler case affect you guys? I mean, I was at the coal face, but I've never considered what it was like for the closest things we had to savages before then…. No offence."

Sal chuckled a little "At first I thought that story was bullshit, I assumed it was just a bunch of those pagan cults and gangs that live outside the cities, you know? Those crazies that like to act like our ancestors and live in caves and shit. Then I saw one of 'em up close in the prison cafeteria after he'd swallowed a mouth full of… questionable food. It wasn't pretty what he did to the poor sap sitting next to him."

"Ughh," Nero groaned, before his hairs began to rise up and his teeth grind together. "I don't like to think about it. One day doing my duty," he said quietly, before his rage began bubbling over, his arms out and voice loud. "Next thing I know lifelong colleagues are staring daggers at me and all sorts! Heck, my useless nephew really got screwed over, all because of a dumb Bunny who decided to channel her spare mating energy into spreading rumours and speciesist shit!"

There was a pause, as Nero rolled his eyes, before speaking in the same tone that Sal had used early when talking about Lobo. A thick, bitter, bubbling hatred. "And to see her, come on every day after and be lauded as the Hero of Zootopia, when I would have cracked the damn case if I hadn't of been taken off it!" Nero paused, his bitter scowl unwinding as he softly chuckled. "It was if karma was real when I heard the news of the incident. And seeing her try to recover, only to break down and cry in the arms of her Fox lover-boy! Damn, if you get a taste of that bringing it to Lobo, I can see why you're doin' this."

Sal's eyes widened with recognition and a little smile "Oh! You're talking about the bunny from the TV, what was her name? Julie? Jenny? Something like that. She ain't bad-looking for a bunny, isn't that an oxymoron?"

"Judy," Nero replied. "Still bump into her a few times, when she's doing the papers at the precinct. I even put up a few nice big pictures of the tundra-town rally, just to taunt her little. Doesn't seem to be getting the message though. I bet the only reason she's still there is 'caus Bogo doesn't want to deal with the PR nightmare for firing her."

"Well… I doubt she'll be a problem for us should we ever meet, she's just a bunny. How bad can a bunny cop be?" Sal sniggered as he leaned back into his seat, confident.

Nero shook his head slightly. "Again, Sal… You don't think of the big picture. Bunny vs Jaguar like you in hand to hand combat… Well, I've heard she KO'd a Rhino in sparring, but I'll believe it when I see it. Now, Bunny with gun vs Jaguar with gun. Who's the biggest target?" Nero's voice got darker, as he carried on. "The big guys like you get all the headlines, but the crap I wade through… It's every kind of mammal under the sun, and the clever ones know how to pick their fights."

There was a soft pause, as Nero broke into a smile and spoke again. "But here's the advice. You can outrun a rabbit on foot, and given her condition, that's where she's staying." He trailed off, but not before muttering under his breath, "what a pathetic excuse for an officer. Then again, her partner reportedly has an exemption from some standard procedures. I tell you, the ZPD is going soft…."

Sal scoffed at this notion, he hadn't been scared of the cops ever since he was 14, where he attacked his first officer with an aluminum bat. You'd be surprised what kind of problems you can solve in this world with a big and heavy metal object. "Well, this cop won't ever be a problem for me, no cop can match me, no matter how big or small. You should know that, since that's how we met." he said with a smug, shit-eating grin.

.

Nero couldn't help but smile. "Finding that you'd inserted a frying pan into that damn tapir, always sticking his nose into my business… Well, it was the start of a beautiful friendship. You scratch my back…"

"You scratch mine," Sal replied.

The two spent the next 30 minutes chatting, it felt good for Sal to have a lengthy conversation with a friendly face without metal bars in the way and an overweight prison officer breathing down his neck. Life was looking up for him, now all he needed was his old team back and the sky would be the limit for him… but first he had to go to bed, getting out of prison was a surprisingly exhausting experience.

The two feline Sicilians made their way through the corridor of the new apartment building Nero had hooked Sal up with, Sal had to admit, it wasn't too bad considering how reasonable the average rent was. And Nero had taken special care to ensure all his belongings were in one-piece and none of them had gone missing. The two 'partners' ended their reunion with a brief kiss on each other's cheeks before Sal was left alone. Pausing, he looked around briefly before settling in the bed and closing his eyes. He had a lot of work tomorrow, and being well-rested would be a major help.

.

.

.

.

Judy Hopps had always been a trier.

For good or ill, she'd never let anyone hold her back. In fact, if someone were to say that she couldn't do something, she almost attempt to do it anyway (and oft succeed) just to prove them wrong.

Aged eight, she'd stood up to a schoolyard bully more than twice her weight. She'd picked up scars then, scars that she still carried to this day, though they were finally healed and hidden deep in her fur. Scars that had only pushed her on.

Aged twenty-four, she was the first Bunny to ever apply, enter and graduate from Zootopia's police academy. She'd been bruised, beaten, worn out and almost drowned. She'd been baked and frozen and heckled. But every attempt to pull her back had just pushed her on, further and faster. It was less than halfway through the course that she'd risen to the top of her class, her teachers first beginning to realise what it was she could achieved. She'd followed through, and graduated valedictorian of her class.

Soon after, on her first day on the job, she'd realised that in the eyes of some her achievements would always count for nothing. They'd just see a weak Bunny than needed to be kept out of the danger that her own naivety, and the political plays of others, would force her into. Out on the streets, things hadn't been any better, particularly when a certain Fox had taken her identity and chipped it away piece by piece. Only later, she would learn that he'd done it out of some perverse kindness. He had his own scars which had never healed. He just didn't want her to get hurt.

But then she'd turned around and proven them all wrong. She'd saved the city. She'd saved the Fox. Those who'd pidgeon holed her away had come back apologising. She'd picked up scars from that case too. Both mental and physical and, while both had healed well, she could still feel a rough patch on her leg when she ran her paw along it in the shower. She always felt a slight pang of guilt too, whenever she met or saw a Predator who'd been assaulted by some Prey, almost always claiming that it was in self defence and that she would understand.

Nevertheless, Judy's second motto in life (shortly behind Try everything) was to take the hit, get up again and carry on. Scars didn't worry her. They were all part of the job and would always heal…

.

Or so she thought.

.

.

"You feelin' good Carrots?"

Judy let out a nervous chuckle in response as she looked back at Nick, her loyal partner for two years. Turning back to face forward, her eyes resting on the precincts infamous 'three-wheeled-jokemobile', she gave her honest reply. "Nope."

.

"Want me to hold your paw?"

.

There was a brief pause…

.

"I'd rather we spend a day at the mystic Springs," she deadpanned back. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in and slowly let it out, trying to stay her nerves. Opening them, she stepped forward, feeling more like someone walking towards their death than a hero ZPD officer at that time. A small part of her, the same part buried deep inside of her that had once urged her to pull Fox-away on her best friend, was screaming at her to walk away and give up. It replayed images of squealing tires, of the dreaded feeling of having no control at all. Trapped. Racing towards your death. Another, larger part, calmly ordered her to carry on though. To march forward, to get in the jokesmobile that she knew could go hardly faster than her running pace, and to just drive it around the damn parking lot like literally any mammal above the age of five could do. Glancing behind her, she saw her dumb Fox nodding away, and she stepped in.

As her first foot touching the floor, her weight pushed down the suspension on one side, and she couldn't help but feel the jitters of that night replaying in her mind. Being tossed around like a stuffed toy in a tumble drier.

.

"Paw…?"

.

"I'm cool," Judy muttered back, as she grabbed the frame of the vehicle and pulled herself in, staying herself as she felt it wobble back and forth, wanting it to be perfectly still before she committed herself to sitting down.

"Paw offer is still open," Nick said, a slight grin growing on his muzzle. "I'm offering a very good Bogof offer you know? Two Fox paws for the price of one, and let's face it… Fox paws beat Bunny paws nine times out of ten…"

Judy couldn't help but chuckle internally at her partner's antics, though she wouldn't humour him by showing him that. Instead she close her eyes, gripped the ignition, and turned. Beneath her, she felt the tiny engine begin to shake and scream, before erupting into life in a cloud of two-stroke smoke. Feeling its vibrations rippling through her body, shaking and roaring like an earthquake, she pushed her foot down onto the brake hard, even if she knew the handbrake was on. All the more help, keeping the dangerous beast at bay. Her hand-paws, meanwhile, shot forward and gripped the steering wheel hard, her diminutive claws digging in to make sure than the wheel below would stay fixed on the right course. She was NOT going to let it go off on a mind of its own ever again. Despite this though, she couldn't help but feel the angry beast below her. Burning through the remains of long extinct giants, pounding like a heartbeat twice a second, and just waiting for its energy to be released. Her other foot lightly touched the accelerator, before flinching back. She balked at the prospect. Of releasing the beast, of putting her life in the hands of such a device again, yet she knew that if she was to ever get her dream back, she had to.

.

"...And I mean, let's face it. Paw, Pads, are, AWESOME!" Nick said, carrying on. A brief pause had been placed between each of the four last words, emphasising the point, and Judy dared to look away from the road in front for just a second to steal a glance at him. There he was, with his famous smug smile glowing on his face. As Judy's head snapped back to looking forwards, he continued. "Let us not forget they are 50% bigger than Bunny paws. So with my two for one, you're actually getting a three for one! With added pads… All the better for holding your paw, as well as performing an emergency Lagomorph extraction maneuver… ™ Nicholas Piberius Wilde ltd…"

.

Judy couldn't help but groan. She also couldn't help but hold her paw out, and she felt her body relax just a little as a larger one wrapped around it. Gentle, though not as tight as she would have wanted, it was now or never. Releasing the handbrake, she ever so carefully lowered her foot onto the accelerator and tense as she felt the vehicle strain forwards.

"You're doing it again," she heard Nick say. "Putting the accelerator down before the brake, it's only making it worse than yourself. Granted, it's not the handbrake, but still... "

"Shut up Nick," Judy interrupted, almost growling as she slowly lifted her foot off the brake. Some part of her knew that he was right, that it would be easier to release the brake first and then lead in with the engine. But that ancient part of her brain told her otherwise. Told her to keep control of her vehicle as much as possible, to never ever give it the chance to bolt. The more rational part of her said something different, saying that this was flat ground and it wasn't going anywhere.

.

The rational part lost.

Her one paw rising while the other lowered, her body tensed with the whole cart. Straining with energy, ready to bolt just like it was.

.

Then there came a squeek.

It was just a tiny one, the sound of the drive wheel fighting against the brake pad, but it was enough. For an instance, Judy was back there. The two times on that one night, driving home after capturing a crook in Tundratown.

.

The squeal of locked wheels, fighting for control on the Icy surface.

.

Rationality took a back seat, and in an instant the accelerator was released, the footbrake pressed down hard and the handbrake pulled right up. After a second, the engine was off and Judy was out, into Nick's silent arms as she tried to stop herself crying. It had been sixth months since the accident. She'd picked up no physical scars, though she possessed some vicious bruises for a while, had no serious injury and could easily walk it off. In fact she did, with Nick, as she joked about how she'd be on parking duty for the next year or so for totalling a new cruiser. He'd just tutted back, saying something about Bunny's being bad drivers. They'd hailed another cruiser that had been travelling back, from the same chase no less, and settled in.

It should have been so simple.

Judy couldn't help but shed a few tears as she remembered how on edge she'd suddenly found herself. And then the skid…

.

No crash, no accident, just a quick skid that lasted for a second or so. But it was as if it had reinforced and iron plated all her nerves in an instant. She'd suddenly felt more terrified than she'd ever done before, and ordered the driver to stop. Despite being in the middle of Tundratown and it being night, she'd jumped out, resolving to walk to the nearest subway station and hope her new-found phobia didn't extend to trains. Nick had been there too, at first pleading with her to come back in, and the wrapping himself around her to keep her warm.

.

That had been six months ago, and ever since then Judy's career had crashed and burned, just like the kind of accident you'd expect would give someone like Judy Hopps a terrible fear of driving and cars…

It was this that finally drove her over the edge for the day. She exploded into blubbering, unable to step herself from cursing her stupidity. Her cowardice. Her failure.

Nick, meanwhile, just stood there and hugged her. He had an idea of the kind of fear she'd learnt, his empathy for his Bunny partner showing through his sympathetic eyes.

He'd dealt with this kind of terror for a long, long time. And he was going to help her to put it behind her... just like she'd helped him.


	2. They call it Lonely Digging

The trio of vengeful Panthers eyed up the neon-lit hovel that lay up the road ahead of them. Lonnie, on Sal’s right brushed off his black and red jacket, growling.  
“Ah Shit! That dirtbag ruined my nice new jacket, this scratch mark is way too deep for anyone to ignore!”  
Sal rolled his eyes, “That’s your fault ya fuckin’ moron, you roughed him up too much. Don’t get too cozy with that jacket, we’re burnin’ ‘em when we’re done here. Loose ends and all that.”  
Lonnie’s eyes widened, “We are? Shit man, I wanted a souvenir!”  
“They’re tacky as fuck anyhow, leave it to a street gang to ruin a once-decent style.” Sal drawled, they were wearing the uniforms of that disgusting gang of greasers and spics. ‘The Seventh Street Lowriders’. He could still hear the crunchy sound of skull-on-sidewalk ringing in his ears…  
.  
.  
.  
2 hours earlier…  
.  
.  
.  
“Hey the filth are on real Hyena’ stinger’ they got some sheep who went and stole a posh ringer. Can’t have some fleecewool, in the jailhouse, better pin it on some ugly Pred….”   
.  
There was a brief pause as the Striped Hyena’s rapping came grinding to a halt. His eyes widened and be barely had time to cower before a barrage of punches hit down on his head and elbows. He grunted and cursed at the short onslaught, before looking up at his two companions, a Male brown Hyena that was caught in a fit of hysterics and a shabby female spotted Hyena, already half high on a spliff of nip.  
“Eh’ Jose!” The first one called. “Yo’ Mama can rap better than that!”  
Jose ignored him, his eyes facing forward as he powered on ahead, the only sign of his bitterness a pair of flaring nostrils. He tried to ignore it all as the female Hyena drew out their last spliff from her pocket and held it to the end of her own, letting the leaves inside begin to ember. The sweet scent wafted over, and he couldn’t help but try and sniff it in as she waved it in front of him, mocking him, before snatching it away. “Eh, eh Jose, Raul rapped a full one minute and got it right to the end. And what can you manage? And you could have said Pred fool or Chomper louse and dug yourself out of your hole you dumb mutt!”  
“Sí, Dulce,” Jose muttered as he watched a sickeningly joyful Raul lean over and grab the precious nip, before holding it up to his lip and taking a long, deep draw, before bursting into a fit of laughter.  
“We should do this battle more often. Get dumb Jose to pay for our new hydraulics. Can’t be Seventh Street unless we can get a little high sometimes! Though I guess that means Jose is out, ain’t he?”   
Jose stopped walking as Raul’s laughing fit at his expense continued, gritting his teeth as he watched the two walk away. His eyes rested and the two burning joints, his breath craved for the sweet intoxicating scent and he lusted after it like a dog in heat.  
“Hey…”   
.  
“Hola ese, Jose is it?”  
.  
Jose glanced back and spotted the outline of some big cat skulking in an alleyway. “Sí,” he hissed. “You got a problem, homes?”  
“You got a cravin’ for Nip? I got Nip for you.”  
Jose glanced to his side, enviously looking on as his hood mates carried on enjoying the evening without him. “How much you got, man?” he asked, as he made his way forward into the alleyway, vanishing into the shadows.  
“I got plenty. And all I want is that pretty little jacket a’ yours.”  
“... My Jacket! Fuck you ‘amigo’! I got hard cash I don’t give a shit about, and you want my hood Jacket!? No one with a dick gives away their threads! Not me. Not Raul. And especially not Dulce!”  
“...Okay then… Seems like I’m gonna have to use traditional persuasive techniques. Now, hold on here, I am a little rusty.”  
“Traditional persuasive techniques, what kinda nip are you… Oh… There are… two more of you. Okay amigos… maybe we can….. HOLY SHIT! DULCE! RAUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  
The words of Jose were quickly lost as the sounds of wood and steel pounding against flesh rung through the alley. Up ahead, Dulce and Raul’s ears twitched at the sound, their hackles raised and they turned to face the screams of their friend, just as they stopped. “Fuckin’ useless baby,” was all Dulce muttered, before she bared her teeth and charged forward, Raul just behind her.  
“IF YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THIS WITH AN UNBROKEN BACULUM, YOU’RE FROM THE WRONG COUNTRY PAL,” he screamed, as he and Dulce charged around the corner.  
.  
THUD…. THUD…..  
.  
“Traditional Persuasive techniques? What the shit is that? What kinda things they been teaching you in the joint Sal? And talking of joints…”  
.  
.  
.  
Back to the present…  
.  
.  
.  
Sal smiled, good times. He rather enjoyed giving those punks a damn good beating, when he was a kid the neighbourhood toughs at the very least had the decency to have a little panache and style, knowing their place in the city. Nowadays they’re nothing more but junkie pricks who deserve a good kick in the ass. Ugh… losers.

The trio made their way to the club, already Sal could smell alcohol… and something else.

“Your Fennec pal, back there better not fuck up, Lonnie. If your punk friend can’t handle a simple drive moving some unconscious dumbasses from point A to B, I can’t see us using him for anything else ever again… or you.”  
Lonnie sighed “He won’t screw up, he’s not a total moron, just a small-timer who’s desperate for extra cash and that’s exactly what ya asked for.”  
“Yeh,” came a third voice, drawing the others attention. “I mean, I saw him ages ago dealing pawpsicles. He’s as small a timer as he is small. Looks like a decent sized rat could beat him up.”  
“You think you could beat him up Richie?” Lonnie asked, snickering as he ribbed the cat in the ribs.  
“... Don’t… Just… You know I really don’t want to be here.”  
“Not as if Sal and I gave you much choice! Both ‘traditional persuasive techniques’ and a deal of a lifetime. Trust me though. It’ll be like the olden days. You’ll love it!”  
Sal walked in front of both of them and spun on his heel. “Shut up, both of you. I’ll do the talking here.” he said as he turned round and knocked heavily on the metal door of the club. Looking up at the neon sign above their heads, a tall and fair gazelle spinning on a stripper pole. This was the kinda place he was spending his Sundays before his arrest, because strip clubs are way more fun than churches, if that wasn’t obvious.  
.  
The metal peep-hole slid open revealing a pair of shiny, unrelenting eyes. Sal recognised those, they belonged to Big Tony. Bouncer for the Lone Digger, not the kinda guy you’d wanna get stranded with in a locked room.

Sal smiled back with a sheepish grin “Hola gringo! Uh... we’re here to speak to Lucio?” putting on his best Spanish accent.  
Tony blew off a hot gust of breath into Sal’s face, making him screw his face up as he reeled from a nasty scent of cigarettes and God knows what else.

“No funny business… or else.” he replied quietly. Sal hadn’t met the guy before, but he’d heard more than enough things to hazard a guess at what “else” was.

The heavy metal door was unlocked with a loud click and it swung open. Revealing an almost catwalk-like entrance. Stylish.

“We got this fellas…” Sal whispered as the entered slowly, Lonnie smiled at Tony as they strutted through, one grunt from the hard-ass Bull sent him on his way though, even Lonnie wasn’t dumb enough to stare the likes of him down.  
As the three Italians made their way through the entrance, Sal took out a comb from his pocket and drove it through his hair, almost purring at the feel of a good grooming. He put the comb back in his pocket, looking to his left and then to his right; there wasn’t anyone else he’d do this with, Lonnie Russo and Richie Serpico, his old buddies. Lonnie in particular wasn’t difficult at all to convince into doing this with him, loyal as ever.  
.  
.  
.  
2 days earlier...  
.  
.  
.  
Sal walked along the familiar street that led to his old neighbourhood, even if it was a slum full of slightly lazy Italians, some of whom could barely speak English. Sal made a mental note to come back here after his business was concluded; his father still lived here, and there was a lot he had to say to him, things he really wanted to say during the days of his trial. He would have told him in jail if his old man ever called or visited, he only hoped his father wouldn’t be too ashamed to see him again or worse yet, disown him.  
Sal took a deep, satisfying breath. It felt amazing to be back here, the very streets where he and Lonnie would smash car windows, or harass elderly citizens… fuck it, they even held up a corner store once… which they never shopped at again, Lonnie probably would have been dumb enough to try that but Sal kept him in line.   
Wait, this was it. Sal was snapped out of his stupor to the sound of heavy tunes rocking out of the apartment building he was standing outside. Dubstep? Well… it wouldn’t surprise Sal, if it sounded like a armadillo getting chucked into a waste disposal unit, Lonnie loved the sound of it. He walked through the main entrance of the apartment building and eagerly took the stairs up to the third floor. He walked down the hall, past all the other doors, some of them had noises coming from behind ‘em, some of them were sex noises. Spicy.  
.  
He kept walking until he was outside the door with the number on the piece of paper that Nero had provided with him, apartment 042. The sound of the dubstep was screeching at this point, Sal was surprised there wasn't an angry mob kicking his door down, especially in this fucking neighbourhood. Sal raised his finger to the doorbell only to find a yellow post-it taped onto it, which simply read “broken” in that typical, learning difficulties-esque hand writing. His handwriting hadn’t changed a bit since kindergarten. Not that you would ever say that shit to his face, unless you wanted to break a few fingers.  
Sal curled his hand into a fist and pounded on the door three times, folding his arms, waiting. Something Sal was never any good at. After half a minute, Sal pounded on the door, harder this time.

THUD..THUD..THUD!  
Sal put his ear to the door when he heard voices over the teeth-grindingly loud music.  
“It’s them, guys! Ready up!” is certainly what it sounded like.  
Sal leapt back as the door swung open to reveal a very pissed off-looking Lonnie, wearing a white shirt with yellow stains, navy blue jeans with Lord knows how many stains and tears, and a handgun grasped firmly within Lonnie’s fingers.  
“YOU AIN’T GETTIN’ ANOTHER FUCKIN’ DOLLAR OUTTA ME YOU FUCKIN’!...” The guy was screaming in Sal’s face, gun waving with each spoken syllable, the shouting however died down when Lonnie properly recognised who his gun was trained on, and it took him a few seconds to get over his surprise and lower his weapon before an accident could ensue.  
“Oh my… my fuckin’ God. Sal? Is that you? Sal fuckin’ D’Angelo?” he whispered, Sal couldn’t remember the last time Lonnie had spoken that quietly. He grinned, basking in the treatment that his overly-inflated ego expected from every motherfucker he’d met thus far since his return.  
“Sì, amico.”  
“But how… when did you get out? How did you get back in witho-”  
“Without that scumbag Lobo finding out and sending a goon to come and clip me?” Sal finished for him, to which Lonnie simply nodded in response. “Not everybody gave up on me, not you, and certainly not you know who.”  
Lonnie’s eyes widened “Detective Moretti?”  
“Ex-detective Moretti.” Sal corrected “He’s still working for Don Provenza, doing well from what I hear. Motherfucker certainly didn’t sit on his ass during his exile all those years ago.”  
“Clearly…” Lonnie replied with envy in his voice “anyway, you best come in. I’ll fix ya a drink.”  
Sal eagerly followed his childhood friend into his quaint new apartment, it wasn’t much to look at. The door to the bathroom was hanging off its hinges and the couch was covered in stains similar to Lonnie’s clothes and and littered with Chinese takeaway boxes. That wasn’t what really what caught Sal’s attention as much as the guys sitting on it, two lynxs, wearing leather jackets and bandanas. Sal sighed, shaking his head as he realised how low Lonnie had gone.  
“Lonnie, old pal? At first I thought nothing had changed with you at all these past eight years… But it seems even your few remaining standards have slipped. To see an associate of the families… acquainted with the Rollerz…”   
Ever since he was a little innocent cub, Sal had known about the Rollerz. A weird mix of good ol’ American bikers and dope-peddling punks. Pricks, basically.  
“Got a problem with us?... “ one of the lynx’s grunted, stepping up to full height and unsheathing his claws. He didn’t even bother to take off his biker gloves, the badly chipped weapons poking out through holes in the frayed leather gloves.

Lonnie came out of the kitchen with a bottle of beer, chucking it over to Sal. “Makin’ a new friend, fellas?” he asked the bikers, whom were staring at Sal hard enough to stab him with their gaze.  
“If you mean hanging out with a pretentious dick who thinks he’s better than us, then yeah, we are.” the same Lynx grunted, before turning to Sal and spitting at his feet.  
“Stevie, show some respect. I don’t want you scumbags spittin’ on my nice clean floor, got me? And this one..” he said, patting Sal on the back “.. is my man, my boy. You gotta problem with him, you got a problem with me. Got me?”  
“He’s your man?” the other Lynx muttered, “Maybe you need to teach him some manners. I mean you work with us without treating us like used toilet roll. Maybe if you don’t the boys’ll meet him one night and teach him in person. You hear what I’m saying, or do I need to translate it for you? Capiche… isn’t it?”  
Lonnie gave a small huff, a smile appearing on his face as he moved in closer to the biker. “Yeah…” he said. “Capiche…” Lonnie looked back to Sal, before pulling back his arm and smashing a punch into the bikers face in less than a second. The Lynx was sucker punched, crashing to the floor before he even got to scream, blood and teeth spat out of his mouth and strewn across the carpet. Lonnie gave a sadistic laugh before leaning down, grabbing the dazed cat's scruff and lifting his face so they saw eye to eye. “You here are talking to my blood brother, get that capiche? And I tell you something capiche, you do not threaten my blood brother... Capiche?”  
Lonnie scowled, before slamming the Lynx’s head into the ground.  
“I said get that, Capiche? That’s your new name, isn’t it. Capiche? Say Capiche and I’ll let you go…”  
SLAM...   
Lonnie threw his head to the ground again, before lifting him up to speak. “Capiche?”  
…  
SLAM  
“Capiche?”  
…  
SLAM…

“Capi-…”  
“Lonnie,” Sal interrupted, “he’s knocked out.”  
.  
“Does that mean I have to stop?”  
.  
“Ha!” Sal laughed. “My old Lonnie, you have not changed a bit. Let him go, his friend isn’t an idiot so maybe he can take him home...”  
The other Lynx, who looked slightly younger and was missing half of one ear, just nodded and grabbed his friend's shirt, dragging him out along the floor.   
“And don’t think about tryin’ nothin’!” Lonnie growled. “We are good friends with Nero Moretti.”  
“I’m not an idiot Lonnie,” the other Lynx replied. “I hope Tyler’s… idiocy hasn’t caused any bad blood between us?”  
“What do I care?” Lonnie said, as he leant down to pick up one of Tyler’s teeth, smirking as he looked at it.  
“Cool,” the other biker replied. “See you around, and I’ll tell this piece of shit your message.”  
Lonnie watched as the bikers left the building, before turning back to Sal and smiling. “Sorry ‘bout that. Now, let's have that drink… and then maybe do some shit after.”  
“Not right away,” Sal replied. “I plan to make my first move against Lobo tonight. Strike at the base of his ‘operation’ you see, start a fire. But before that, I need another helping paw. You still know Richie?”  
Lonnie just shook his head. “Retired from the business after the heist…”  
Sal took a deep swig of the drink, before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Time to un-retire him then.”  
.  
.  
3 hours later...  
.  
.  
KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK…  
.  
“Antonio! Get that for papa will you?”  
Sal and Lonnie exchanged worried glances as they heard the voice. It wasn’t that it wasn’t their old brother Richie Serpico. Indeed the voice sounded exactly like him, Sal remembering it just as it was eight years ago. The last time he ever heard it, it had been called over to him as the fellow big cat fled away from their bank hostages and onto their motorbikes, ready to split up and flee with the loot. From what Sal could see from the house in front of him and hear from behind the door, Richie had been busy spending it. Far more productively than Lonnie had been, for sure.  
“Let us hope that that is just another of his one night strippograms…” Lonnie half joked, just as the sound of paw pads on tile came close to the door.  
“He called him Antonio!” Sal hissed, only for Lonnie to shrug.  
“Let us hope then that Richie was a Fag…”  
“... What’s a one night hippogram…? And what’s a Fag? And who are you?”  
The two big cats looked down, their worst fears realised, as a five year old cub looked up at him. “Papa! Two guys are here.”  
“Well ask them what their names are!”  
“Sal”, “Lonnie,” the two called, as the sound of glass breaking echoed out from the kitchen at the back of the house. There was the soft hiss of cursing, before Richie, in oil-soaked mechanic overalls, peeked out from behind a wall.  
He was speechless.  
“Antonio,” Sal said, “we are old friends of your fathers, who just want to talk about dealing with a very nasty man who we used to work for. Why don’t you…”  
“ANTONIO! Close that door!” Richie screamed, and his son immediately reached for it, only to be knocked out of the way as Lonnie charged through.  
“Hey, hey guys! This is not the place!” Richie yelled, backing up as the sound of Antonio’s sudden wailing filled the room. Lonnie paid no attention, grabbing the other mammal around the shoulder and launching them both, tail first, onto a sofa. Sal just marched on, ignoring the mess of toys and dirty plates that littered what would have been a high end room back when Richie first bought this place. Nero’s voice filtered through his mind, telling him how this place was expensive, but wasn’t being kept tidy. The mechanic uniform was just icing on a cake. Richie had blown his load, was now empty and desperate for a refill. This would be easy.  
“It has been many years, friend. Send your child upstairs and we can talk. Alone...”  
Richie gulped and turned to his son. “Antonio! Bed...”   
Antonio just walked towards Richie, tears still flowing from his eyes, looking like he wanted a hug.  
“Antonio! Bed! Now!”  
Still crying, the little cub turned and raced off to the stairs, leaving the three grown cats alone. Lonnie still had his arm around Richie’s shoulder, and his grip was slowly tightening like the pull of a rack. “It looks like you have settled down brother? Must be boring. Proud male like you…”  
“Lonnie... “ Richie hissed. “I wanted out of this a long time ago. I do not want back in!”  
“Really?” Sal interrupted. “Because I see a bankrupt cat sitting in front of me. An ex-mercenary, working in a job that’s humiliating for school leavers…”  
“And I want to be able to see my Antonio, and my Florence, LEAVE SCHOOL! And not from inside a prison cell!”  
“Boring!” Lonnie almost sung, as he extended his claws and began playfully shredding the uniform.   
“I’m solvent you guys…” Richie muttered. “Our heads are above water. We were okay on the interest on the heist money… or we were until my woman chose to go gambling at the palm hotel.”  
“Do not tell me you’re going to work in a dump like that till you retire!” Sal warned, his patience with Richie beginning to wear thin. “Besides, I am certain my old friend Lobo will have enough money to pay off your wife’s debt and give you enough for, say, a nice holiday every year.”  
“Firstly, I only plan on working there ten years tops. I have everything planned out. Secondly, you do not seem to…”  
“You don’t seem to get it!” Sal roared, loud enough to start off two sets of wailing upstairs. “Eight years! My kneecap! My life! Lobo fucked it all up! And he will haunt every fucking one of each and every dream I have until I put a bullet in his brain!”  
….”Richie!” cried a new voice from upstairs, at which point the cat’s face took on a whole new level of terror. “Shut those two little shits up, or else I’ll slice up your tail and turn it into salami!”  
“Listen, I got to go. I really fucking got to go! My wife, when she gets mad... “ Richie urgently said, wiggling as tried to free himself from Lonnie’s grasp, only to be cut off as his captor descended into laughter.  
“RICHIE SERPICO IS A CUCK! A MOTHERFUCKIN’ CUCK!” You know what Sal! Fuck this guy! He’s useless, leave him!” At that, Lonnie threw Richie forward, knocking him out cold as his head hit a coffee table.  
“WHO THE HELL IS MAKING THIS RACKET!”  
Both mammals looked up to see an unkempt, sleep deprived big cat standing above them. Her body and face were riven with years of facelifts, botox and other forms of plastic surgery while her premium Preyda clothes were torn and stained. But despite all that, Sal still recognised the only mammal in the world who he hated almost as much as Lobo.  
“Oh Shit… He motherfucking married Katie..”  
“Damn right he did you cunt!” She screamed, raising a bottle of empty wine and tossing it at them. “Sal fucking D’Angelo! Back again! Didn’t you do enough last time? Why couldn’t you stay in the zoo where you belong you animal!  
“Lonnie, grab Richie and run!” Sal ordered, as he turned to face his friend. “I have an idea.”  
“But…”  
“Do it!” Sal screamed, and Lonnie immediately followed, hoisting Richie onto his shoulder just as another bottle flew past them.  
“I’d say nice to catch up with you Katie, but ma taught me not to lie.” Sal said, rushing as he raced out of the door with Lonnie on his back. Katie just raced up to the door and stopped, hissing as her hairs stood up on end.  
“I will find you! You hear me Sal? Fuck the police, I will find you myself and I’ll kill you!”  
“Bye, Katie!” he yelled back, rounding a corning and stopping with Lonnie to catch his breath.  
“Here,” the other cat moaned as he dropped the still unconscious Richie onto him. “You fucking carry him. Your fuckin’ idea. What even was it anyway?”  
“Richie… will not… help us for money…” Sal said between his pants. “I’ll offer… him something… else…”  
Lonnie was silent for a moment, before he began to laugh. “It would be a pleasure to finally trim the fat from the family” he said. “As long as I get to trim it. And I get to chew a bit first…”  
“Wha…”  
Sal and Lonnie looked down at Richie, the former clicking his fingers as his old partner slowly came to. Leaning him against a nearby wall, Sal looked on as he slowly remembered the recent events.  
“Shit… Katie is going to turn me into a rug for this… No… I am out of the business… Not for money.”  
“How about if I add in a sweetener,” Lonnie said. “A new rug for just you perhaps?”  
“What?”  
“Richie. I fuckin’ hate Katie,” Sal said. “She’s only done two decent things in her life, and even then you did half the work… You do this one job for us, and I’ll take care of you like always, you layabout.”  
Richie pause, his eyes widening at the suggestion, before he gulped and shrugged. “Even if I say no. I have no choice in this, do I?”  
“Not really, Rich…”  
“Well,” Richie said with a sigh of defeat. “Lets just get this over and done with.”  
.  
.  
.  
Back to the present…  
.  
.  
.  
Sal led his two idiot friends through towards the end of the corridor. The start of his new purpose in life lay just behind that door with a weird robot neonlight face on it… behind that door… according to some recently intel lay... him.  
.  
The three stopped at the door, Sal took a long deep breath, the sound of pounding techno pulsing through the door and ringing in his ear. He put both paws on the door handles and pushed them, visualising the door as Lobo…. on the edge of a bridge.  
.  
The Lone Digger, in all its neon-clad glory, lay before him. The patrons and the gangsters were sat at tables, a gazelle stripper was rocking out in a cage… Sal had one hand in his pocket, on his comb… thinking of that lovely serrated edge on the handle…  
.  
Tap...tap...tap…  
.  
Sal looked to his side at Richie, who’d just garnered his attention. He was pointing ahead at a table. Three wolves sat there, their stupid tongues out and panting with the heat. They were enjoying tonight. Good think that was about to change.   
“Is that Lucio?” Richie asked.  
“Sure it is,” Lonnie replied. “Lobo sure gave him a cosy little life, didn’t he?”  
Sal ignored them, focussing further on the damn hound in front of them. It wasn’t Lobo, but it was close enough for tonight. Same mother, same father, the idiot younger brother of the operation. Even when he was a tiny rookie in Big’s organisation, he had a higher rank than that dumb dog. The unofficial saying was that he’d lick Lobo’s ass clean every day, if it weren’t for Lobo telling him to stop. Still, it seemed that blood was thicker than water.  
“Yeah,” Sal muttered, “And I think this will make for some nice kindling to start our little fire with, won’t it?”  
His predatory eyes stayed fixed as a Zebra waitress trotted past, placing down three shots of chilled cream and vodka someone had ordered. Sal took a glass and took a deep swig. Best to get the buzz going, before the party started...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back, apologies for the wait, we planned for this chapter to be up a little while ago but circumstances drove a little bit of a wedge between us. On the upside, Chapter 3 is mere inches from completion. Remember to review and we'll see you next time. Any questions will be answered in the author notes at the end of each chapter so don't be shy.


	3. Aftermath

Bogo stood waiting impatiently outside the entrance to the Lone Digger nightclub. Being the chief of police, he’d long ago caught ear of the place.   
.  
Rumours…  
.  
Reports…  
.  
Accusations, both real and slander…  
.  
And now, as the blue lights of the cities EMT’s and police officers flashed around it, while the press hovered around outside the establishment like flies around a corpse, he had an ugly feeling that he’d be hearing its name far more often.   
“Sir?”  
He looked down grimly as a familiar Red Fox waited by him. His first interaction with Officer Wilde hadn’t been one of his best moments by a longshot, and for a rather nasty species slur he’d spoken (in front many of Wilde’s now current friends and family) the vulpine had gained the right to check his authority somewhat every now and again. Today though, not a hint of his usual smugness shone through, and he looked just like him.   
Worried.  
Weary.  
Ill?  
And dead serious.  
The only thing missing was his usual partner, the erstwhile Judy Hopps.  
“Where’s your…” Bogo began, before Nick butted in.  
“On her way sir.” Nick replied. “When we got the call in our apartment, we made our way as fast as we could. I could take the car, but given…”  
Bogo just nodded in understanding. Judy had proven herself, and would have been an excellent cop if it weren’t for the incident. Still, despite her handicap, he still felt he should find as much use for her as possible. As long as doing so was also possible… Though his patience was beginning to fray at the edges.  
“Understood,” Bogo replied. “It’s nasty in there, you understand? We even have nighthowler antidote on standby, though it turns out we don’t need it.”  
.  
“Is that good or bad?” Nick asked.  
.  
Bogo pulled down his small glasses and huffed, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled.  
.  
“Despite all my experience, I don’t know…”  
.  
Nick gulped and tugged at his collar. “Not a great source of confidence sir. Being ‘Old Chief Ironhorns’ and all…”  
.  
“I do know where I stand on that nickname Wilde… and though I like it I advise you only use it in informal settings…”  
“So…” Wilde began, a hint of his usual sarcastic wit returning. “No currying favour....?”  
“Let us just say it cancels out all the times you called me BuffaloButt behind back…”  
The Fox’s eyes widened. “I…”  
“Don’t think I don’t know,” Bogo replied, his glare turning up from menacing to full on spine-chilling. “In anycase, I think your partner is here…”  
Nick look to the edge of the police cordon, where a Grey Bunny was ducking under the police tape and running towards the area at full speed. She collapsed straight onto Nick, huffing and wheezing as she recovered, before she gave her brow a wipe and look up.  
“Officer Hopps…” she panted, “reporting for duty…”  
.  
“Good,” Bogo replied. “While it’s an unprofessional metaphor, it looks like a blender went off in there. Witnesses reported that a trio of big-cats in ‘Lowrider’ uniforms entered, before an altercation started between them and the manager of the club, a wolf, and his two associates. One cat and two of the wolves died. The final Wolf is comatose and has been taken off to hospital.”  
“What about the bouncer?” Judy asked, before gulping as Bogo tilted his head towards a blood wagon. “Attacked by three Water deer, of all mammals. He apparently snapped one's neck before he was overcome. Three Rhinos were also involved, one is dead and the other two knocked out...”  
“Sir,” Judy said. “It seems you have this pretty well covered.”  
“Indeed, there were several witnesses, who I want you to collaborate with. A Zebra waitress, A mule… though he was in a drunken stupor throughout… a red and arctic Fox who… and you’ll probably appreciate this Wilde, fled at the first sight of a problem and notified us…”  
“Anyone else?” Nick asked.  
“Their resident stripper… Not that you’ll likely get anything out of her.”  
“That’s… the overview,” Judy asked. “And our job? Assisting with an investigation?”  
“Just collecting evidence for the detectives,” Bogo informed them. “Oates is here, as is McAngus…”  
“Ad Vice are here?” Nick remarked with raised eyebrows.   
“We don’t know what the motive here was. Murder, gang attack, drug deal gone wrong. We’re covering all bases, and you’re covering theirs. Now get to it! Before I give you parking duty or a ticket for loitering!”  
“Yes sir.” the two small Officers saluted, before turning off and marching into the club.  
.  
“So,” Nick said, breaking the ice. “Good run…”  
“Keeps me fit…” Judy said with a shrug, as they approached the door to the inner sanctum.  
“Now, brace yourself like this is your first time in the mystic springs fluff,” Nick said glumly.   
“I’m fine,” Judy replied, as she opened the doors and looked on at the chaos spread in front of them. The dark mood lighting that used to rule the place had been replaced with the harsh white glare of its service lighting, making the chaos ever clearer. The whole area in front of them looked like a whirlwind had swept through it, furniture scattered across the place. Bodybags had already been removed, or at least piled up safely in a corner for removal, but a complex mish-mash of chalk lines stood where a great pile of corpses must have been. All around it, were long thin blood splatters that looked more like a Jackson-Pollack than a crime scene. Close to it, a camera in his paws as he stood taking pictures, stood an elderly Scottish wildcat. Will McAngus, chief detective in Ad Vice.  
“Ah. Finally, some assistance.” he said under his breath, as he turned up to face Nick and Judy, before turning back to the evidence at hand.  
“Yes Sir,” Judy proudly replied, saluting him as Nick nodded by her side. “How may we be of assistance? Need any pieces of hair catalogued… photo’s taken…”  
“Wanna make yourself useful, Hopps? Go get some coffee would you, lass?”  
“Sample of Coffee?” Judy asked for clarification.   
McAngus rolled his eyes “No, there’s a shop across the street, they’re just about to open. Run up there real quick and get us a couple o’ lattes would you?” his strong Scottish accent made Judy have to really pay attention to each and every syllable.  
His partner, a horse by the name of Oates kicked one of the corpses “Jesus, was every gang this side of the county involved in this? Well over half the outfits these John Does are wearing are uniforms; Lowriders, Los Cuchillas… I’m fairly sure some of these stiffs were from the Families.”  
“Yes…” Nick snarked back. “Maybe some from the Cappuccinos… or the little Italy lattes… I even heard, and god forbid if this is true, that an east-town espresso was spotted nearby.”  
“Nick,” Judy chided. “Now’s not the time for coffee jokes.”  
“McAngus started it,” Nick complained, looking over to the small feline.  
McAngus growled “I’m not in the mood for this right now, losers. Either make yourselves useful or get the fuck out, makes no difference to us.” he droned, photographing the corpse of one of the water deer.  
“Uhh…” Nick muttered, before Judy took his lead.   
“Wow! Um… Okay. yes. Serious stuff Nick. So, I brought some evidence bags and…”  
“Yeah, that’s real great and everything” butted in Oates “We can handle this. Nick, run along and get us our Joe would you? Hopps, you can interview the junkie scumbags outside.” he said, pointing a hoof to the door. His blatant disrespect for the survivors of this horrific incident made Judy cringe a little inside.  
“Right,” she replied, before marching off with Nick in toe. She held a grin on her face, though it was so fake it trembled as she tried to hold it up.  
“Well, experience levels show,” Nick commented. “You interview. I do the coffee run...”  
“We’d ask you to get our drinks, Hopps but it’s a bit of a drive and we don’t want you screaming at the sight of a cruiser now, would we?” chuckled McAngus.  
Nick paused, turning back to face the suddenly all too innocent detectives before looking down at Judy. Her ears had drooped down against her skull, and her fists were balled up and trembling. He opened his mouth to speak, only to stay silent as Judy barked out an order.  
“Don’t rise to them!”  
.  
“Yes Officer,” Nick quietly quipped. “And I was about to tell them the same thing. I am Mr ‘Never let them see’, am I not?”  
“When it comes to yourself, yes.” Judy replied, before she shuffled over slightly so she was walking right up next to Nick. “But I know that a tiny little insult against me, and all that is out of the window.”  
A smug grin grew across Nick’s muzzle. “You are my greatest weakeness,” he said, as they walked out through the entrance corridor and into the cold night air.Together they made their way towards a small van, peering inside to see four of the five witnesses to the whole event.   
“You start with the mule,” Nick suggested, “while I’ll go to the incredibly cheap drinks dispenser around the corner and get our two friends a drink. There’s also a pharmacist nearby, if you want me to put anything compromising in McAngus’ coffee. Laxatives? Viagra…?”  
“Just the worst coffee on record will do,” Judy said, before leaving Nick to retrieve it. She hopped up into the van and went along to the mule, whose head hung low. Unlike the two Foxes and the Zebra waitress, who were still trembling with shock, he looked more like he was drunk out of his mind. The reek on his breath practically confirmed it.  
“Hello,” she said, introducing herself. “I’m Officer Hopps. I know this event was very traumatic, but can you please give us any information you can?”  
The mule looked up, slowly. Judy took a step back, the last time she interviewed someone nearly this drunk, they’d vomited on her feet. Her newly manicured feet.

“Hey… hey I know ya…. I think? Didn’cha used to date my brother or somefink?”  
“Uh, no…” Judy slowly replied. “And I don’t really see the relevance this has to the crime we’re investigating. Can we please start at the beginning?”  
“I came in at like… 9 I fink? And I…” he stopped talking, Judy leaned forward a little… she knew that look. She jumped back as he fell over…. And puked out onto the sidewalk…  
“Right…” she muttered, resolving herself. “Do you want some water or anything to help you or anything?”  
“He does this shit all the time, he’s probably passed out by now.” The arctic fox said, stepping forward and leaning over to poke hi. “Yup, he’s gone.”  
“Not much use he was then,” Judy said. “Guess that was Nick’s plan. Get me to do the useless one, so he can be back for the interesting ones… Speaking of which, how do you know this person?”  
The red fox stepped forward to join his friend “He’s a regular, like us. Or he is now, he’s been coming round here day after day according to Tony, apparently he got divorced or something.”  
“Okay,” Judy asked. “Who is Tony?”  
The arctic fox raised an eyebrow “He’s alright ain’t he? Tony, the bouncer? He’s fine, right?”  
Judy felt a wash of fear come over her, the tips of her fingers feeling numb as they drained of their blood. She felt a choke in her throat, but pushed through it as she spoke. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. The chief reported that he died…Attacked by a water deer of all things...”  
The foxes stiffened, the arctic one brushing her fingers through her partners hair “Christ… I’d have thought if anyone would survive this it’d be Tony.” she said turning to her red-haired companion “Will, we should probably get in touch with his sister.”

“Seriously? She’ll go mental!”

“Do you really wanna keep it from her? Fucking Hell!” she said with her arms crossed “You really astound me sometimes.”  
“It depends,” came another voice, as the occupants of the van turned to face Nick, who was jumping in with two cups of coffee in his paws. “Might know her a lot better than you do. And from experience, telling people these kinds of things is rough. Which is admittedly why your offer is very welcome from my perspective…”  
The red fox sighed “Alright, I think I have her phone number. I… I just don’t understand why this whole thing happened in the first place, one minute everything was totally cool and the next we’re in the middle of a Saw film!”  
“I’m sorry,” Judy said. “I really am. But I promise you that we’ll do our best to bring these killers to justice. That’s what we do at the ZPD. But we need your help… First off, have you ever seen any of these three cats before? Given that they were the starters of this fire.”  
The red fox scratched his head “No.. I don’t know any panthers I don’t think. Silvia?”

The arctic fox shrugged “Nope. I remember the uniforms they were wearing though. Come to think of it, lots of the patrons were in uniforms.”  
“While our Mule friend over there and you two don’t seem to be, in fact you’re the only ones who aren’t.,” Nick replied. “May I ask why you were there?”  
The red fox shrugged “Friday night’s friday night.”  
“Fine by us,” Judy replied. “So, these panthers in the Lowrider uniforms, something my partner will need to fill me in on later, attacked the bar owners right at the start of this whole mess. Was there any… trigger? An angry argument? Yelling? Or did they just go for it?”  
Silvia, the arctic fox hummed in thought. “Oh, yeah. I saw one of them get up rather quickly after the waitress spilled milk on them, the minute he got out his seat Mr. Romano and his friends got up, they looked pretty pissed.”  
Nick coughed slightly as he heard the name, one he hadn’t heard for years. “Do you mean Mr Romano… as in Lobo Romano?”  
Silvia raised an eyebrow “Um… no? I meant Lucio Romano, the owner. He’s at the club all the time.”  
Judy turned to Nick, and spotted his eyes widen. “Lucio Romano… are you sure? Certain? Positive? Are you one-hundred percent, willing to stick your life on it, convinced that it was Lucio and not Lobo?”  
The red fox replied for her “Yeah, positive. Lucio and I are… drinking buddies of sorts... we occasionally share a drink together, he’s not so bad… for a greaseball missing half his braincells that is.” the fox replied with a chuckle “Anyway, who's this ‘Lobo’, his dad or…?”  
“Brother,” Nick clarified. “I just wanted to make sure. I’m guessing it kind of makes sense if Lobo bought this place for Lucio to run… keep him out of harm's way, not that it really worked…”  
Silvia stared at the floor for a minute, suddenly becoming fascinated by her own feet. “Huh, I didn’t know Lucio even had a brother, did you, Chris?”  
The red fox, Chris nodded “Yeah, I’ve seen him around. You’d never think those two are related though, Lucio’s an okay guy but he’s a total dipshit. Lobo? He’s something else. How else do you think that dumbass would have got the money for a club like that?”  
“So,” Judy pondered. “Nick, what do you know of this Lobo, or is this not the time and place?”  
“Not the time and place,” Nick immediately replied. “So, three cats with Lowrider jackets attacked the bar owners over literal spilt milk? Walking into an apparent gang meeting with some serious players and attack Mr. Big’s employees? Something doesn’t add up... Any of you know if these two parties had business interests before? Ones that went sour?”  
Chris chuckled “Seriously? I doubt it, the Lowriders aren’t that well-connected. They just steal cars occasionally and rob a house or two… when they aren’t tearing down the neighborhood with that fucking rap music of theirs.”  
“What about the other two gangs?” Judy asked. “Rhino’s and… Water deer wasn’t it?”  
Chris leant back “No idea where those fucking Water Deer sprang from, but those Rhinos are from the projects down south in the city. Los Cuchillas they call themselves.”  
“And the Water deer tended to be involved as muscle for the Triads, though those collapsed in this city years ago after a civil war” Nick added. “Maybe these goons found new employment?” He let the question hang in the air for a before turning his head to face the so far unquestioned Zebra. “What about you?” Nick asked, directing his question to the oddly silent waitress.  
“What about me?” she asked. “I don’t wanna even be here. I just serve the drinks, Lucio never confided in me about his… dealings.”  
“That’s okay for now,” Judy said, carefully putting a paw on her knee. “It must be dreadful, what you went through… We can offer some councelling, and you don’t have to give a statement right now. That goes for all of you. We just need contact details, and then you can go home. Or in the case of this fellow the drunk tank.”  
Nick just remained silently, pondering the single sentence that the waitress had muttered, along with lingering clues those detectives had completely glossed over.  
As if on cue, the detectives came out the front of the club, looking pretty fucking pleased with each other. “Anything of use, Hopps?” asked McAngus.  
“We know some preliminary details,” Nick replide. “About the owners of club, and the affiliation of their atta-”  
“Yeah, yeah whatever. Just hand over your notepad and we’ll… uh… we’ll sift through your writings instead.”  
“Haven’t really taken any notes so far,” Judy said, “but we can get reports in by noon tomorrow. Plus, I think Nick here has some leads he may want to chase up.”  
“That I do,” Nick added.  
McAngus rolled his eyes “You’re supposed to write down any and all comments made during an interview, is a little professionalism too much to ask for these days?”  
Nick stepped forward “We do have the basics you know? We just chose not to dot the i’s and cross the t’s given that there were some traumatised waitresses who wanted some emotional support. And let us not forget the coffee that it was vital for us to retrieve…”  
“Whatever,” replied Oates, stepping outside too. “Listen supercops, Angie and I-”   
“Stop calling me that ya wee bastard.” McAngus snidely remarked.

Oates smirked “... and I are heading off now, we have God’s work to do. Since you have precisely nothing to do, we want you to go back in and check the corpses for us before the coroner arrives. Think you can handle that for us?”  
“We’re good.” Nick replied, waiting for the two detectives to turn and begin to walk back to their car to add a little addendum. “Shall I also contact drugs for you, given the coke the club had?”  
That stopped them. McAngus spun on his heel “Coke? What coke?”  
“Yeh… about that,” Nick replied, a cocky grin growing on his muzzle. “I’m pretty sure Bogo sent us in, at least partially, given that I’m a top graded sniffer agent. Full marks on my special course at the academy. Not because of my sub-par coffee retrieval skills. I sniffed a faint trace of coke when I came in. Well sealed off and disguised, but it’s there...”  
The two detectives stared at each other for a moment. 

“Alright, sniffer dog.” replied Oates “Here’s the deal; you go find us the party powder, and we’ll be sure to let the Chief know what good a boy you were today. Maybe he can buy you a new toy afterwards or play fetch in the part. Heck, maybe you two can finally dig your way out of becoming the laughing stock of the department after all.”  
Nick scowled at them, before shrugging. “Don’t worry. My report will be brimming with detail. Now, Hopps, come with me. We’ve got bodies to check and drugs to find.”  
The two walked past the detectives, Judy keeping face for just long enough for them to be out of hearing range, before the anger that had been building up all night released. “Who do they think they are!” she cursed. “Insulting me like that! We saved the city! We’re working just as hard as they did when they were in our position! They could at least have some empathy! But no, they think they can humiliate me just because two near misses in a row shook me up a little! Isn’t that right Nick?”  
.  
“Nick…?”  
.  
“That’s right Hopps…”  
“Are you even listening?”  
“Yes,” Nick shrugged. “But also thinking. The water deer and Rhino’s fighting off can be chalked off to two rival groups going after each other when the starting gun was fired… But we have someone who worked for the Bigs up in the heap with drugs, a major no-no in the old families… and Jaguars, who rarely tend to fall in with the Lowriders, attacking them.”  
“Going to give me another exciting episode of your life story?” Judy muttered, though she perked up as Nick’s paw brushed the back of her head.  
“Yes,” Nick replied. “Though how big it is depends on just who this cat might be… That’s what we’re going to find out…”  
Carefully making their way to a bodybag, Nick carefully unzipped it. He stared at the face of the dead big cat looking up at him, his head tilting in confusion for a bit, before his eyes widened.  
“Well,” he said nervously. “The interestingness just turned up to eleven…”  
“Why?” Judy asked. “Who is that?”  
“Lonnie Russo…”


	4. Fallout

"So?" Judy asked, "Who is Lonnie Russo?"

Nick nudged the head of the corpse lightly with his foot, piquing his mouth before turning to face her. "He's only the most cold-blooded psychopath in Little Italy. I could tell you tales of this one that would make your fur stand on end and fill your panties with pellets. It's just a shame we don't have a campfire in the woods, a torch and a packet of marshmallows..."

"So…" Judy said again, her voice trailing off as she looked at the mammal below her. The idea struck her a thousand shades the wrong way, but it seemed like this was the kind of mammal who'd always had something like this in mind as a retirement plan. "Do you think he just went in there looking for a bit too much fun or something?"

Nick chuckled, leaning down to further examine the dead panther's face, her body stiffened as she heard Lonnie's neck crack as Nick turned it.

"You clearly don't know his sort, fluff. They don't start this kinda shit lightly. Lonnie is a psycho and everything but this doesn't seem like his thing… someone else must have been pulling his strings."

Judy paused, thinking about it. "You said you knew everybody?" she asked. "So… how do you know this guy?"

Nick stood up, shrugging "Oh you know… I get around. This guy helped me out with a couple of jobs back when I was doing favours for Big."

"May I enquire on what kind of perfectly non-illegal jobs require the help of a psychopath?" Judy said, rolling her eyes as she did so.

"Relax, Judy. He was one of the bodyguards Big used to protect his friends. This guy would simply stare you into submission, no need for strong violence. Of course, Big never liked to rely on him given his… 'other' connections."

"The bit about staring I can believe," Judy commented. "I mean, he's harmless now and I can't bear to look at his face right for longer than a second…"

"Thats cold," Nick commented, though Judy ignored him.

"But… you said he had 'other connections'. Didn't you?"

Nick smiled, giving her a sarcastic thumbs up "You're on fire today, ain't you Einstein? It would be easier to list the people Lonnie didn't take jobs from. He worked for the Cuchillas, The Rollerz, The Saraceno Family… but I'll tell you one thing. He never once worked with the Lowriders, considering how he nearly throttled one to death a few years ago."

Judy nodded slowly. "I can't help but notice that he has a Lowrider jacket. Not wanting you to steal all my thunder, I can think of three possibilities. One, he was desperate enough to turn to them. Two, he wanted to frame them… get them in trouble. Or three, it was cover. Throw us off, have us chasing the wrong mammals, and get away while we did so."

"Considering how the Lowriders considered this guy a bad omen, I'd say the last two have merit." Nick said as he proceed to look around the club. "But Lonnie wouldn't just frame the Lowriders for something this hot without his reasons, he wasn't a genius but he wasn't completely insane either. This doesn't add up…"

Judy looked on nodding, thinking about the case. From what Nick said, he'd have likely been briefed by someone beforehand, and given instructions as to carry all this out. He'd have come, stolen this jacket and…

.

"Nick?" Judy asked, a proud grin beginning to grow on her face. "Was this Lonnie fellow intelligent enough to check over a newly acquired suit… You know, for any of its previous owners items or fur?"

Nick's eyes opened slightly, and he turned to face Judy with a smile on his muzzle. "Sly Bunny."

"They'll have some evidence bags and forensic gloves over in the blood wagon," Judy said. "While I retrieve them, maybe you could tell me more about this guy's colourful history?"

"Step to it, this guy's going nowhere."

"All the more time to build up a profile," Judy snarked back, as she hopped up into the back of the vehicle and began nosing through a set of draws, retrieving all she needed.

"I have an idea as to why this all went down… feel free to shoot me down though, I got nothing concrete."

"Oh stop dawdling," Judy muttered, before her eyes widened. "And fill me in more about this Lucio fellow and Lobo as well. It takes two to tango, doesn't it?"

"Right you are, I think they are the motive behind this, the targets. Lonnie has worked in this business a long time, and got together with all kinds of crews and all sorts of crooks from the small-time to the serious, but the witnesses say that these Lowriders were panthers. There's only two names that spring to mind on my end, Jude."

"Entreat me," Judy said as she return over to the body. Steeling herself for what was coming next.

"I know two panthers who worked with ol' Lonnie here; one is Richie Serpico, a mechanic. Used to be a pretty successful street racer a few years ago but he never pulled any crap like this."

"And the other?" Judy asked as she pulled off the jacket and placed it into a protective plastic bag, keeping any contamination off of it while she got up and personal.

"The other is way more believable; Sal D'Angelo." Judy blinked at him, Nick almost smiled at her lack of knowledge of the name, a dead giveaway that she knew little about the nasty world underneath Zootopia.

"Psychopath? Murderer? Fornicator? Rapist? Kleptomaniac? Buggerer? Methodist?" Judy rattled off, before her eyes widened as her paw clasped around something hard in one of the pockets. A thin little smile on her mouth, she pulled out a rough fabric wallet and opened it up. "Whatever he was, was he intelligent enough to know not to keep the wallet of the Hyena who you stole the jacket from? Particularly one with a driving license in it? A certain Jose Hernandez."

"Sal's work for sure. That's what made their partnership so profitable, Sal was the brains, Lonnie was the muscle. Last I heard, just after the Skunk Butt rug incident, Sal got arrested for something."

"You think he's back…?"

"Yeah." Nick said, nodding firmly as he did so. "I'm thinking he's back… Only..."

"Only what?" Judy enquired.

Nick turned to her, his face wincing up, before it burst into a short giggle.

"NICK!" Judy half screamed, giving him a light punch to his side as she tried to make him act appropriately. It only served to make him hunch over, paws on knees, as he cackled and shook his head.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he wheezed, before finally composing himself. "But… It's just that after serving his time, Sal chose to attack Lucio! I'm sure you remember how I acted doing those interviews, but it doesn't scratch the surface. Lucio was the most pathetic, useless, harmless moron who ever howled at the moon!"

"I thought you said all Wolves were dumb-dumbs?" Judy asked.

"I said that in jest," Nick replied. "But there was an old mob joke. Wolves have a hierarchy from alpha to omega, but when Lucio joined their species they created ten new bands, just so they could put him at the bottom. He may be involved in the criminal underworld, but no one would have any reason to go after him personally." Nick shook his head, and his gaze hardened. "In any case, attacking him is like kicking a puppy in the playground. And since he's Made, everyone in the mob would blacklist you… If Sal's trying to get back into the business, he's failed epically! He's just blacklisted himself and put a bounty over his head. Heck, if Lucio had actually died from his injuries rather than being carted off in an ambulance, Sal would likely be sliced up already!"

Judy just looked back at the dead mammal, before the conversation with the two fox witnesses echoed through her memory. She remembered Nick's reaction, and turned to face him. "What about this Lobo?" she asked. "You mentioned him… you thought that Lucio was him! Could this be mistaken identity? Or given that the attack was against his brother… revenge?"

"Yes and no." Nick replied, circling the body "Sal obviously wants to send our mutual friend Lobo a message. Lobo has very little love in him, the only guy he ever cared about was his lil' brother Lucio. Sal must be using him to draw him out of hiding, and once they do… I dread to think what he'll do to the bastard. To say Sal is cruel would be the understatement of the year."

"Great," Judy muttered. "We've got a potential mob war. A psychopath on the large. An annoyed Hyena who can't find his jacket… though thinking about that, we should call in this Jose fellow and maybe contact the hospitals. There's a chance that this jacket wasn't given in lightly… In any case, once we file in all the evidence a few interviews would always help. Then, we can help look up this Sal fellow. Anything I've forgotten Dumb Fox?"

"Nothing on the police side," Nick replied. "Though I want to talk to Mr Big."

Judy stepped back, her head tilting ever so slightly as she registered what Nick had just said. "Why do you want to do that?"

"Because, however much of a lovable idiot Lucio was, Mr Big has Iced mammals for selling drugs outside his establishment. I don't think he'll be too pleased to know just how much coke was found in a nightclub that technically falls under his control."

.

.

.

.

Sal and Richie ran by the alley corner and vanished into the blackness. Sal hadn't ran this far or this fast in years, his legs were killing him and he felt like he was going to cough his lungs up.

The less said about his knee, the better.

As Sal came to a halt, Richie slowly caught back up with him, leaning against an alley wall.

"Jesus…. Christ…. That certain wasn't what I'd… planned." Sal muttered through deep breaths. "You okay, man?"

"NO!" Richie shouted back, before holding up his arm to look at a dripping bite wound around his elbow. "Hell no… No, no no no no no!" His voice trailed off as he looked over at Sal, his tired and scared eyes narrowing slightly into an angry gaze. "You fucker! You just fuckin' ended my life!"

"Hey, hey, hey! You ain't dead yet! I mean, I thought that if anybody'd die on this it would be you but… here you stand so.. Well done on not dying."

Richie just looked at Sal with a gobsmacked impression, before looking away in shame, sniffing slightly. "You think I'm okay?" he whined, "You think when the cops show up and throw me away for twelve or so years that I'll be okay? You think that when my Son graduates high school, and I'm in stuck in the joint I'll be okay! YOU THINK THAT WHEN KATIE FINALLY GETS HER CLAWS ON ME, THAT I'LL BE OKAY!?"

Sal slapped him across the face and grabbed him by the head with both paws "Listen here, this is me you're talking to, Rich. Me!... Sal D'Angelo! Not some amateur punk greaseball, I will get us through this man, I promise you that! I will fix this!"

"You better start twenty minutes ago," Richie spat back, before turning back to his arm. The blood was seeping through the torn remains of the lowrider jacket and dripping down onto the floor. Tearing off the end of the sleeve, he wrapped it around wound, wincing as he tightened at, before tying up his makeshift bandage and sighing as he looked at it. Spots of blood were already growing, and the first of a new set of drops were flowing down the underside. "And I hope you know some undercover medic I can go to Sal," he added. "Because when Katie decided she wouldn't change Florence for several days while I was away, there ended up being less leaking than this!"

Sal sighed, Richie's arm looked real bad, not something that could be fixed with a kiss from your mother and a bandaid. Plus if he didn't fix it, the amount of evidence piling up in this alleyway would be every forensics expert's dream. "Alright, just go back to my apartment, you know the way. There's a first aid kit under the sink, you know how to use one."

Richie nodded, wincing in pain before turning around to walk away with a firm grip on his arm. Sal collared him and pulled him back into the alleyway "Stick to the alleys! Stay out of sight and don't get pinched. I will go make a call and get this sorted, alright?"

"Right…" Richie replied. "I'm sorry… As you can guess, my retirement hasn't been the best news for my skills…"

"You'll be fine, Richie. Just do what I tell you and you'll be golden. Now get outta here!"

"Right…" Richie replied with a nod. "And can you deal with Katie sooner rather than later? If she see's this…"

Sal growled "I'll get to it. Fuck off already!"

"On it," he replied, before racing off, vanishing into the cover of the shadows.

Sal sighed, pulling his jacket down a little. He needed to burn these threads soon, before the police burned him. He pulled up his collar and left the darkness of the alley, heading to a public phone across the street. He slid a coin into it and called the one person whom had even a thread of a chance of fixing this.

"Peppermint Rhino, pal. What can I do for you?"

Sal winced, the sound of the dubstep in the background made his head throb "Hey it's Sal, is Nero there?"

"Uh.. yeah, he's at the bar here. I'll pass you over. It's D'Angelo!"

.

"Sal?" the cheetah on the other end of the line asked. "My years as a detective have trained me to believe that this news is either very good or very bad, with a predisposition towards the latter. Which is it?"

"Nero, Lonnie is fucking dead! He's on a slab right now at the club!"

.

"Okay." Nero said solemnly, before his tone darkened. "Tell me exactly what the hell happened."

"We went according to plan, entered the club and made a move on Lucio. You didn't tell me he had friends with him, one of 'em tore Lonnie's throat out, but I got worse news than that."

"Let me guess," came the impatiently sarcastic reply. "You got spooked by the sabreteeth on one of those water deer that hang about the place doing deals and stuff?

Sal's face darkened, Nero's sense of humour was always poorly timed. "There's no easy way to say this but.. I think Lucio's fuckin' dead."

"... Well," Nero said quietly. "It was nice knowing you. Shame this freedom thing didn't work out. Any last of kin and words I should give them?"

"Don't you fucking dare, Nero!" Sal snarled "You're in deep just as much as me, it's only a matter of time before Big figures out how I got back without the mob finding out, and then Big will cast a big ol' spotlight on you."

"You don't think I don't know that?" Nero asked calmly "I mean, it would take some time for them to work out the link between me and my little protege. They'd find it, eventually. Now… I could plead culpable deniability, which would usually work. However, given that this is Big's favourite cross eyed little pup-pup who you did in, a made one nonetheless, he's likely to make your demise less than pleasant. Rather than a quick death, he's likely to give you plenty of dunkings in the ice room along with beatings… shocks… and a whole lot of other things to make you confess. The possibility of you confirming something else isn't out of the question, and then Mr Big will call Provenza and explain what you did to a fully made mobster who'd settle all his debts and, consequently, was untouchable. Then, honour bound, he'll hand me over to Big's mercy. Still, I am a smart man. I have escape routes. New identities. Retire to a nice villa somewhere far away and learn how to make pasta… or get a maid to do it. You though, sadly, will end up iced, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"You think you can hide from them, Nero?" Sal screamed. "They've killed rats who've ran to Asia and Europe! You have no chance!" Sal was getting desperate now, and his tone proved it.

"I think I can," Nero nonchalantly replied, though Sal thought he could hear an ever so slight quiver in his voice. Not fear though. Not even disappointment. Something far more dangerous.

Regret…

"Stop bullshitting me," Sal growled. "Because I know you're bullshitting. Bullshitting like a pro! But I can see through it… I know what your plan is…"

"Goodbye, Sal…" Nero said sadly.

"...I know that the only way for you to get out of this intact is to silence me!"

"I'm sorry it had to end like this."

"I'M NOT GOING DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT! YOU HEAR?"

...Click….


	5. Chapter 5

“Carrots! I brought takeout!”

“Cool,” Judy shouted back, looking over the back of the sofa at Nick before turning forward again to catch the evening news.   

_ ‘Police sources have so far refused to provide any explanation as to the motive for this terrible attack, with the only news coming out so far being that eight mammals are dead, with a further two in critical condition…” _

“Nothing about the drugs then,” Nick commented with a sigh as he came down to sit next to Judy, nudging her up as he placed their hot food in front of them.

“Yeah, so?” Judy asked, picking up the odd inflection in Nick’s tone. The Fox just smiled, and replied as if nothing was the matter.

“Nothing. Just observing…”

His voice trailed off as he leant forward and began fishing out his own food from the bag. Judy couldn’t help but notice that he had the same smile on his muzzle as he had when she’d first talked to him, out in from of Jumbeax’s shop.

“It isn’t nothing.”

“Fluff, I can assure you I…”

“I know that look Nick!” Judy said sternly, as she leant into place her paw on his arm, just below his shoulder. “It’s the same one you gave me back when I brought you that jumbo-pop and called you articulate…”

Nick paused slightly, before turning back to the TV. “You know…” he said, “why are we even watching the news when we were there…”

“Nick…” Judy warned, though he ignored her.

“We could be watching the latest episode of Shirelock!”

“HOLY… THAT’S OUT!” Judy shouted, her eyes wide with excitement. She leapt for the remote, scrambling it up in her paws before pointing it towards the TV and turning on its streaming program. As she flipped through the various categories of programs, Nick just settled back into his seat and smiled, his fish taco in paws. Judy, however, scowled in annoyance as she reached where she expected the new episode to be.

“Oh Beets!” she cursed, before throwing the remote onto the table. “One hour to go!” 

“Yes,” Nick commented. “One hour until you can get your latest high of Benedict Cumberland.”

“I know…” Judy complained, as she leant into the bag and brought out her own portion of food, an alfalfa and carrot salad.

“I’d of thought you’d have been put off Horse detectives,” Nick commented, as he took another bite of his own food.

“It’s in the name,” Judy replied. “Cumberland, as in Cumberland Island. Oates is a Camarillo. Big difference.”

“Really?” Nick asked.

“Yes…” Judy replied. “And in any case, just because my daydreams involving turning Oates into glue doesn’t mean I have any animosity to other members of his species.”

“Including ones you have a crush on,” Nick teased, his mouth parting into a sly grin.

Judy slammed down her food onto the table in response and turned to face him, her nose twitching so fast it may well have gone haywire. Nick’s eyes opened wide and he backed off, paws open and up. “I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH FOR BENEDICT CUMBERLAND!” she seethed, as Nick gulped with worry.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Good!”Judy growled, before turning back down to pick up her food, taking a large spoonful before being interrupted as Nick spoke again. 

“In any case, we all know who you have a crush on, and he’s right here in this very…”

Nick didn’t get to finish speaking, as Judy threw a punch at him. He shifted back, grabbing it in his paws and somewhat stopping it, before Judy pulled it back. She was silent, breathing deeply in and out and avoiding eye contact, before she stood up and began to walk away.

.

“Hey, Carrots?”

“What Nick?” she grunted back.

“I’m sorry…”

.

“Thankyou,” she huffed, though she still looked away from him. Wandering over to the large window to their living room, she grabbed the handle and pulled it open, before stepping out onto the balcony. The railing was far too high for her to lean on, so instead she planted her head between two of the upright rails and just rested there, letting her weight push the cold iron through her fur and onto her skin.

She breathed in and out deeply.

Her paws gripped the iron tightly, while her teeth ground against each other.

.

“Judy?”

.

“What…”

“There’s no need to ask you what’s up,” Nick said carefully, “because I know what’s up.”

“No you don’t,” Judy softly replied, still looking out through the bars. Out onto the city she had dreamed about as a kid. Which she’d sworn to protect. Which she couldn’t now, not because of an honest mistake. Not because of the prejudices of others. Not even by an injury received in the line of duty. She couldn’t protect the city because she was nothing more than a dumb and scared bunny. A Bunny who couldn’t stand on a vehicle with an engine and throttle without having a panic attack. A stupid, stupid, stupid pathetic miserable excuse for a mammal, who’d been emotionally scarred by an event others beside her had easily survived. By an event that was nothing more than a simple accident, which cause no injuries bar the odd cut or bruise. Looking out through her tears at the city that she’d once saved, she couldn’t help but think about how little use she was to it now…

.

“I do, don’t you remember?” came a soft voice, followed by the light touch of a paw on her shoulder. She turned around to face Nick, his eyes widening as he saw the tears in her eyes, before walking forward as he pulled her into a hug. As Judy felt his paws com around to comfort and protect her, her tears slowly began to dry up.

“Yeah, I do…” she replied softly. “But you did that all on your…”

“I did and it was my choice,” Nick replied. “I also had two and a half decades of time to help heal those wounds though. I don’t think you want to wait that long. Do you?”

“No...”

The two just stood there silently for a bit, before Nick’s eyes opened wide with an idea. “Tell you what,” he said, “how about you come into my den, and I show you something.”

“Is it something to help me with this dumb phobia?” she asked, as backed out from his embrace and looked up.

“I’m not sure,” Nick replied with a shrug. “It’s more to do with your emotional stability…”

“What do you know about that,” Judy snarked back, finally feeling a little better. “You’re the one who bottles up everything, Mr Never let them see.”

“The key is in the wording Fluff,” Nick replied, “Never let them see that they get to you. Trust me, even in my worst years, people still got to me. A lot. And, at the end of the day, I always had a full bottle that needed emptying.”

“I trust you Nick,” Judy said. “Lead on.”

Nick nodded before doing just that. He lead Judy back through the living room and kitchen of their shared apartment, only to avoid the first door to the right and instead choose the second. His room. When they’d both agreed to share a two-bed rather than each rent a cramped studio, there had been certain agreements that had to be made. Nick would do the cooking, and at least keep the dishes clean. Judy would do all the cleaning and vacuuming, given that she had a much higher sensitivity to dust and dirt. One thing that Nick had made abundantly clear from the very start was that, unless invited, she was to  _ never _ go into his den. When Judy had asked why she couldn’t go into his room to clean, Nick had stated in very simple words that his  _ den _ was  _ his _ place of safety and  _ no-one _ was to enter unless there was an absolute emergency. 

As she stepped in and saw it for the first time since the viewing, she couldn’t help but make one comment. “Don’t you think that the state of this place classifies as an emergency?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick snarked back as he walked over dust bunnies made of shed fur and piles of dirty clothing. Stacked up against the walls here and there were multiple knick-knacks, all of them likely used or won in some crazy hustle at some time or another. Looking behind her as the door closed, Judy even spotted a scent board hanging from it,the device often used by mammals who wanted to mark their dens but had to work around a tenancy agreement.

“I thought the whole point of you having a room…”

“...Den…” Nick clarified.

“Was it was this holy place.”

“It is,” Nick replied. “It’s just my religion, to quote Tyrion Lionster, is of the ‘tits and wine’ variety. In any case, all this stuff makes me feel safe, and thus as far as I can see it’s doing its job.”

“Right…” Judy said skeptically as she tiptoed around a large rubber foam sports paw.

“That’s technically my Mum’s,” Nick said. “I’d return it one of these days, if it weren’t for the fact she has a dozen others.”

“Make it a baker's dozen,” Judy joked. “Hell, I could give it to you for her…”

“No you won’t,” Nick suddenly said sternly. He turned around to face Judy, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “I don’t want my mother knowing what kind of mammal I’m living with. She might kick me out of the family!”

Judy stared at him in shock as he went over to a locked chest and began undoing the two combination locks that kept it closed. “Why on earth would your mother be against me? Is it because I’m a Bunny?”

“You’re a Podunk Prongs fan, are you not?” Nick asked, not bothering to look up from his chest.

“Well yes, I mean Bunnyburrow doesn’t…”

“If my mother knew I worked with a fan of the Prongs, of all teams, she’d skin my hide!”

Judy was silent, blinking for a few seconds, before she turned back to the foam paw. On it was written the words ‘COME ON COY’S.’

“Trust me, that whole affair in the finals with the Coy’s not being given that penalty when Roe tripped up Lupius up pissed her off a thousand times more than the whole Nighthowler plot!”

.

Judy tried to keep it in, but only managed a few seconds before a snigger escaped her mouth. The dam pierced, it then matured into a full on laugh. “And imagine if I did have a crush on you, I…”

“Don’t you?” Nick asked, suddenly sounding quite hurt, as he stood up from his chest.

Judy stopped laughing immediately, before looking up at Nick. “I… I… like you, a lot, but…”

“Oh don’t worry,” Nick replied, suddenly sounding like his own old self. “How about we sort out all that mushy romantic stuff once we’ve sorted out all this massacre and emotional phobia mumbo jumbo.”

Judy blinked a few times, not knowing what to say. She had a lot of feelings about Nick, all going this way and that, but she had other feelings at the moment. Bigger feelings. Darker feelings. Feelings whose strain she didn’t want to add to at this particular moment. “Fine…” she wined.

Nick looked back, his mouth twitching from side to side for a bit as he thought before he turned back to his unlocked box. “Speaking of which, how about you come over here and look at my innermost secret.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Judy said back as she walked over to the chest and looked in, her eyes widening at the wide variety of ‘toys’ inside.

“These, my dear Carrots, are my stress relievers,” Nick proudly said, as he leant in and brought out a punching bag. Judy watched as he hung it up on his clothesline before he clenched his fists and shifted into a fighting position. “This is where I let out all the emotional baggage a day gives me, and feel good for myself!” At that, he let out a fast punch into the bag, slamming it into the back wall. It didn’t have a chance to drop away from it, as Nick’s other paw came in and slammed into it, pushing it back up against the wall. Then his first fist punched in again, and then his second, and soon he was firing a barrage against the innocent target. Again and again and again, beating it to a pulp. His breath was fast and deep, his muscles shifting beneath his fur and his mouth parting as he began to pant from the exercise. Finally, with one huge uppercut, he launched the bag off the line and into the ceiling.

.

“That…” Judy began, before her voice trailed off. Speechless… Nick, paws on knees as he panted, looked up to her and smiled. 

“I’ve always liked cutting out pictures and faces of those who’ve really pissed me off and putting them on that fellow,” he said. “Otherwise it’s the least satisfying out of all my toys…”

Judy looked back at the chest, before reaching in to touch another one. She winced back, however, as she felt the stickiness covering it. Reaching in for a second time, she groaned as she lifted the huge rubber fish out. Coloured silver and pink, it was easily larger than her and almost as big as Nick.

“I see you’ve found speciesist salmon!” Nick said, and Judy couldn’t help but groan.

“What even is this?”

“Chew toy.”

“Of course...”

“Trust me fluff, they’re BRILLIANT! Throw him and I’ll show you how you really let out a day's stress!”

Judy shrugged and, remembering her high school athletics, maneuvered the thing around into position. As if it were a shot-put, she held his tail and pushed it forwards, watching as Nick leapt into the air and caught it in his teeth, his jaws closing around it and forcing it to release a loud  _ Squeak _ . Landing on all fours on his bed, he growled and hissed as he shook it too and fro, more death squeak’s coming out. At first Judy had been shocked, but the absurdity of the situation began to take over as Nick rolled onto his back and threw it into the air. He clamped his teeth around the things head, eliciting another loud squeak, before all four of his paws began scrabbling and clawing along it.

By the time Nick finished, Judy was rolling around on the floor and laughing.

.

“Why don’t you try one?” he asked, as he came over. “If life winds you up, you might as well have fun as you wind yourself down…”

“Fine…” Judy groaned as she turned back to the box and began sorting through it. There were thick bundles and knots of rope, along with a variety of other chew toys. There was a sealed box filled with what looked like strings of extra chewy taffy, likely for Nick to bite and tear at. What really got her attention, however, was a clockwork mouse. “What the…” she began to say, before Nick came in and took it from her.

“I’m not sure what you’ll think of this,” he commented. “It’s  _ very _ Foxy, though then again so is everything else. It’s also far more in the  _ ‘have fun’ _ side of these things instead of the  _ ‘relieve stress side’ _ .

“Hit me Slick!” was all Judy said, and Nick complied as he wound the toy up, placed him under the sheet of his bed, and let him loose. The little bump skittered off, before changing direction and darting around. Judy noticed right away that Nick was ever so slightly tempted to do something and, remembering some of their best exploits in Tundra Town, she knew exactly what it was. She leapt onto the bed and, on all fours, paced around so she lined up with the toy. Her back legs coiled up and she pounced, diving down on her Prey and scrabbling at the sheets as if they were snow as she tried to grabbed him.

As if realising its peril, the toy slipped out of her grid and snaked through the sheets, just as Nick too pounced down on it. He was more successful, grabbing the toy in his jaws and holding it tight, even through the sheets. The sound of its desperate scampering were more than cancelled out by Judy’s hysteric laughter.

“Enjoying this Fluff?” Nick said as he spat the toy out. A paw going under his sheets, he picked it out just as Judy composed herself.

“YES!!!!”

“Good to hear! Think it’s enough to de-stress yourself when Oates and McAngus are being real dicks?”

“I… uh…”

“Too Foxy, I could guess,” Nick replied. “However, there’s a false floor to the chest, and eighty percent of the storage space is dedicated to the best stress reliever of all…”

“I dread to think what it’ll be,” Judy joked as she walked over to the chest and lifted out the floor. Her eyes went wide as she saw what was beneath it.

“Think that’ll work Carrots?”

“Do I have long ears?” she replied back, as her paws dove in.

“Am I fabulous? Yes, yes I am.” Nick proudly said, as the sound of Judy’s stress relief filled the room.

_...POP… _

.

_...POP… _

_. _

_...POP… _

_...POP… _

_...POP… _

_...POP…...POP…...POP…...POP…...POP…...POP…...POP…...POP… _

“Slow down Judy!” Nick suddenly urged as he walked to Judy’s side and reached in with her. “Leave some bubble wrap for me!”  

.

.

.

Two hours later and the pair had settled down. Nick had already ordered Judy a huge bulk shipment of bubble wrap, coming in multiple sizes and strengths, along with a carrot chew-toy and a punching bag with a slot to put photo’s of idiots in. Food was finished, as was the new episode of Shirelock, and it was only then that Judy realised that Nick had expertly avoided the subject of what had been bugging him when he’d come in.

“So, Nick,” she began to say slowly, as ahe got his attention. “What was messing with you earlier?”

Nick blinked, before smiling. “Have you really forgotten?” he asked, acting surprised. “Don’t you remember I had issues with muzzles just like with you and cars! I had to acclimate myself to use them and wear them over a year or so, and even them I nearly failed the academy lessons involving them. Good thing I had the agreement with Bogo that I only had to do them once, wasn’t it? As long as I did a sniffing course, though I’d be doing one anyway, and took some therapy in the force. Don’t you remember me asking you to put those ones onto me at the end of that program?”

Judy just looked back, scowling as he tried to worm away from the point again.

“I mean I don’t see why that’s a compulsory subject!” Nick continued. “I mean, you can fail one out of the three climate courses for one! How else would we get equids on the force when they can’t do the Ice wall! And I passed all of them, plus night-time challenges and tracking thanks to my night-vision and smell which pushes me up even…”

“Nick!” Judy warned, before reaching up with her paw and clamping Nick’s muzzle shut. “Something was up with you when you entered, and you’ve been avoiding it throughout the night! Now TELL ME!”

.

“Fine,” he huffed, before looking away. “Remember when I said I’d be talking to Big about the coke…”

“Yes,” Judy replied.

“Becoming a cop meant I got out of the shadow. A shadow that included working for the Families, Big included. I…”

“Don’t worry,” Judy replied. “You are a dumb Fox, you know that? If you want to avoid getting your paws dirty again, that’s fine by me. Let me tell Big.”

Nick blinked a few times, before relaxing. “Really?” he asked.

“Really,” Judy replied. “Heck. I get to see how Fru-Fru and my Goddaughter are doing!” 

.

.

.

.

_ Back at Sal’s apartment _

“ARGGHHHH!!!”

Sal kicked his chair over, the third piece of furniture he’d needlessly destroyed this evening, not that it was enough. When Sal’s temper flared, logic and rationality went straight out the door, as did the mutilated fragments of wood and fabric that once made his lounge suit.   
  
“Fucking petty fucking Cheetah fuck-face! Who the fuck does he think he is!? Leaving me to the wolves when he’s just as responsible! The fucking nerve! Fuck Man, half the chance he’ll be leading the fuckin’ pack!”

“So?” Richie asked, slowly unwinding from the defensive position he’d assumed when Sal’s destructive rage had begun. “You said you’d sort it? What now? We flee? We fly?”

Sal’s temper finally receded, evaporating, leaving behind only a residue of sorrow and fear. “I’m sorry Richie… I ruined your life… I fucked up big time. Any minute now, they’ll be here, and you and I will be wearing concrete boots by sunrise.”

Richie blinked a few times, before loudly chuckling. He then began laughing, louder and louder, as he walked over to Sal and patted him on the back. “Good one Pal! Concrete boots by sunrise… So, what’s the  _ actual _ plan? The plan that lets me return and live with my family… preferably as a widower though I don’t really care anymore…”

Sal got up abruptly, pointing a claw right in Richie’s face “How the fuck can you be so calm?! Do you not get it? We’re done! Nero’s guys will come up here at literally *any* time and turn us into meatloaf! You’re supposed to be the uptight and bitchy one, and yet here you are, sitting here with a grin on your face. I don’t get it!”

“Sal…” Richie began. “I’m laughing because you’re joking, ain’t you? You’ve got a super plan which will mean we’ll survive this as free mammals… Isn’t that right?” There was a soft pause, before Richie began to get more nervous. “Your idea, wasn’t it. Your plan to get us out of it? That you’ll tell us right now. We’ll find a way to pay our debt or cover are tracks and… and…” There was another pause, as Richie’s face took on the expression of a corpse. “Oh shit you’ve just killed me. Haven’t you?” 

Sal took a deep breath, getting a  beer out of the fridge and leaning against the wall, looking out of the window, he cracked the beer open and took a good long swig. “Jeez… no! I refuse to die here, not like this!” he shouted, pushing himself away from the window and stepping back to Richie “Sitting here, moaning and waiting to die is not the way forward, we can get out of this… we just need… a plan.. And a place to lay low for a bit…” he said as he paced up and down the living room, thinking and mumbling to himself. Then he stopped.   
  
“...Little Italy.”

“Right!” Richie said urgently in response. “See, I knew you’d have a plan, wouldn’t you? A plan to get us out. A plan to escape. So what, you have a place in little Italy we could hide? What if you don’t? Didn’t Lonnie say he hired this Fennec dude in a van to remove the Lowriders? We could hide in that van or something? Or maybe you’ve found the myth about a Honeybadger with an apocalypse bunker in the rainforest district isn’t a myth, and we could hide there…. Or if you do have a place in Little Italy, just tell me where it is and we can go there!”

“How about Lonnie’s apartment?” Sal suggested. “He lives down in the projects on the east side of Little Italy. No-one from the Families ever goes down there, not with all the street punks gangs. He keeps a spare key under his doormat, we can hide there!”

Richie’s eyes opened and he leapt forward, grabbing Sal’s head and kissing him on both cheeks before he could react. “SEE! A PLAN!” he yelled. “I love you! I’m not going to die! I get to see my cubs grow up!”

Sal chuckled “Alright! Alright already” Listen, I’m gonna go down there now and check the place out, then I’ll go fetch that Fennec guy and his van, you stay here and pack up everything we need, take only the essentials.” He walked over to a drawer and opened it, throwing out a few pairs of socks and underpants until he fished out a small pistol “Take this piece, in case anyone shows up, use it only if you have to, okay?”

Richie took the gun and ran his claws over the trigger and safety, popping out the magazine to inspect the number of bullets inside before clipping it back in. “You know Sal? This is the safest and most confident I’ve felt since you turned up. Fuck it, since I realized that marrying Katie was a shit move! I’ll just see if I can pull up any of these boards and hide beneath, and wait for you to return… Or sit by the fire escape in order to make a rapid escape if things go shit… Anyway, let's do this!”

Sal nodded eagerly, “I’ll call you when me and the van are here, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be safe, Richie, you’re all I have left in this cesspool of a city.”

“Addio Sal! Buona Fortuna!”

Sal nodded, walking to the door and flying out of it as fast as possible.

.

.

Sal handed over the money to the taxi driver “Thanks man, this is far enough.” he said before getting out.

There it was, the projects of the Little Italy area, in all of its putrid, crumbling red brick, alienating and depraved glory; but Sal knew that underneath its grotesque appearance was a town of unending vice and fun… if you knew the right people that is. But today, Sal would simply be doing a trip he’d done just a few days before. Walking along, through the portal that led from the front of the block into the centre, into a long narrow courtyard filled with yellow grass lawns and rusting sports equipment. Even though it was summer outside, the temperature roasting, inside the narrow canyon was surprisingly cold as a bracing chill worked its way into Sal's fur. He pulled his collar up and carried on, knowing where he needed to go. Staying away from the main roads and watching camera’s, he approached a fenced off gap between two blocks, filled with the refuse bins for the apartments above. A glance at a gaunt tree to its right and Sal was climbing up of it, before vaulting over the fence and lying on the concrete. In front of him, facing the open street, would be a locked gate he’d walked past on his way to see Lonnie the first time. To his sides were the fire escapes of both blocks, and from there he could get into apartment 042. No one spotting him. No one seeing him. Lonnie almost always kept the window open, not fearing any petty burglars, so he could enter just fine. Then he could open the door, retrieve the key and check it was safe for Richie to come over. After all, any mobsters that Big or Nero had sent would be looking for someone coming in, not someone coming out…

.

... _ Click… _

.

Sal gulped, his strid pausing as his ears shot up erect. Turning around to look over his shoulder, he saw a few figures emerge from behind some of the bins. He noticed that one of them had a gun out and pointing at him, before one of the figures lunged forward, a heavy metal bat in his raised paws.

After that, the world went black and all Sal felt was pain.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to review! But be fair, flames are useless. See you guys in the next chapter.


End file.
